


Do we Put the Severed Arm in the Lost and Found?

by Never_Eat_Sour_Wheat



Category: Sam & Max
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Depression, Gen, M/M, Max has so many issues, Max hates his job, Sam Hates Himself, fuck Lincoln Sybil has a sassy wife, mentions of self harm, possibly gorey scenes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2018-11-21 07:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Never_Eat_Sour_Wheat/pseuds/Never_Eat_Sour_Wheat
Summary: He didn't usually stop on the way home, but it had been a hard day and he decided he needed something sweet. Except, of course, everything had to go wrong. He might get something sweet out of it anyway though.





	1. Hi, Welcome to Chili's

**Author's Note:**

> The au belongs to k1ttenteeth on tumblr! Totally check them out, an amazing blog and an amazing friend!

Overtime is a bitch, and he's never doing it again.

It's almost eleven when Sam finally gets to leave the office. His boss had pulled him aside during the middle of the day and asked him to take overtime. And Sybil wasn't the type to take no for an answer. He didn't hate his boss, she was a nice lady, just a bit stubborn when she wanted to be. It isn't like he had anywhere to be, so he hadn't fought it too hard. Still, the extra work was mind numbing and he had to deal with aggravating people. He was excited to be leaving, but exhausted enough to fall into bed and sleep for years.

Had to get home first, and that unfortunately meant he had to drive through the streets of Queens. It wasn't rush hour, but New York's called the city that never sleeps for a reason. Large blinking signs everywhere, loud honking horns and loud bustling crowds meant that he'd be stuck in traffic for ages. After being cut off twice, he decided he'd had enough. He turned off on the next alley, not truly caring where he ended up. He loved this city, but it could be too damn much sometimes. 

He drove for a good few hours, anywhere that didn't have traffic, but by one am he'd decided he'd had enough. Besides, he was running out of gas, and the DeSoto may have been a hardy old girl, but she wasn't constantly reliable. Wherever he was though, the sign said the next exit had a 7-Eleven he could stop at. Maybe get some directions, figure out how the hell to get home.

The small town he'd pulled into had almost no lights on anywhere, but the more financial area had a few places open still. He pulled into the 7-Eleven and slammed the DeSoto's door shut a bit louder than probably necessary. He didn't appear to be in New Jersey, so pumping his own gas was probably fine. Had he left New York? Shit, getting home might end up harder than he thought. Fuck it, he doesn't have a cheat day since he isn't really dieting, but he can have something. Probably a Fudgy-Freeze, it's been way too long. He slid over the hood of the DeSoto, smiling a little. It's a stupid thing to be happy about, but he does like feeling like someone in a stupid late night cop show.

"Hi, welcome to Chili's!"

He almost jumps out of his fur. Of course someone still had to be on the clock, but he wasn't expecting such a chipper welcome, or even one at all. Or the cashier to be a tiny, sharp toothed grinning rabbit. Or being welcomed to a restaurant he's almost positive he isn't in.

"This is a 7-Eleven." The little rabbit, Max his name tag says, just smiles bigger and rests his cheek in his paw.

"Its a joke man." Sam just raises an eyebrow, tucks his hands in his pockets, and takes a look around. Max watches him, almost creepily, but there isn't much else to do, and he probably isn't allowed to be on his phone when customers are in here. 

The freezer is one of those waist high ones, with tons of stickers all over it for different types of ice cream that are supposedly inside. Oddly enough, they almost always lie. The tops are supposed to be see through, but it's caked with ice, just like everything inside probably is. They're cheap ass little things, but so is the stuff inside, so nobody really cares. He just slides the little door to the side and looks inside. Tons of different big brands, including Fudgy-Freeze. He reaches in for one, and notices something much longer than any ice cream treat should be.

Is...is that...?

"Holy molding cheezits sold at a far too expensive price! Someone come look at this!" He's gripping the cheap plastic like his life depends on it, and Max jumps over the counter, and comes racing down an isle. He skids to a halt next to Sam, and leans over the edge of the freezer.

"Is that a arm?" Sam feels like he's going to throw up as he takes a few steps back, and Max appears to be frozen in shock, or fear. "That is so cool!" Or something.

Next thing Sam knows, everything's black.


	2. Whatever the Intended Use of a Severed Arm is, That's Not It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a beta reader for the first time in my life! (@k1ttenteeth on tumblr again) So hey, less grammar and spelling mistakes, awesome. Tags are gunna be updated a bit, and from here on out I'll probably stop doing notes. Enjoy!

The first thing Sam noticed when he woke up was something poking at his nose. The second thing he noticed was that he didn't want to open his eyes because he appeared to have a splitting headache. The third thing he noticed was that he was lying on something hard and uncomfortable. The fourth thing was that the damn poking was persistent. The fifth thing was that nothing should be poking him since he lives alone.

When he slowly opened his eyes, bright fluorescent lights against a white ceiling met him. He was slowly starting to remember. 7-Eleven at one in the morning, probably not in New York anymore, finding a fucking arm in the freezer. The thing poking him was probably Max, and the police were probably on their way. Everything would be fine.

"Oh good Sam, you're up! I was starting to wonder if I should've gotten the first aid kit. No idea how to use it though. Anyway, check out what this thing can don't!" And suddenly he was being poked in the nose again. Not by a fuzzy white paw, but a still cold stick.

Or, rather, a decapitated hand.

"Holy horrific haunting nightmares brought to dreary life on a dingy gas station floor! Get that thing out of my face!" He shoved at Max's shoulders, but the rabbit didn't seem to be too affected by it.

"Why? I'm trying to pick your nose with it, I've almost got it too! You know, for such a big nose, it sure is hard to get this thing's fingers up your schnoz!" Sam growled and sat up quickly, sending Max careening into the freezer, "C'mon, you're no fun."

"Did you call the police? And how in me hell do you know my name?" There was a few awkward moments of silence before Max snickered slightly. Sam almost smiled, glad that someone had finally gotten the joke, but caught himself. He was mad dammit! 

"I didn't think to call the police, I just had to see if I could get this thing up your nose! Besides, I don't have a phone, and we're only supposed to use the store phone in case of an emergency."

"And this doesn't count?" Another few seconds of awkward silence. 

"Actually, it might." Sam sighed and dug through his pockets. It became more frantic when he couldn't find what he was looking for. "Missing something?" Max snickered and held up Sam's wallet and phone. He tossed them haphazardly to Sam, who barely caught them in time.

"Where were you keeping these?" His uniform didn't seem to have any pockets.

"That's none of your damn business, Sam. Oh, and you're out of cash. Oh noooooo." Max grinned as Sam grumbled wordlessly under his breath and turned away from the rabbit. 

"Love you too Sammy!" He rolled his eyes as Max started making fake kissing noises. What was his problem?

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Um, I found a severed arm in a freezer." Fuck phone calls, fuck feeling awkward, fuck this whole thing,

"Alright, can you give me an address and name?" Fuck, where even is this place.

"Just a second." He pressed his palm against the speaker and turned back to Max. He was poking himself in the eye with the severed arm. "Stop that! What's the address of this place?" Max just held his paw out, and Sam begrudgingly handed over the phone.

"Yellow? Oh, hi Pam! Ah, it's been a while, huh, sweetie? We'll have to get coffee sometime. No, no, I didn't cause it, shocked me too. Work, of course, I barely know this guy's name, and that's only 'cuz I sneaked a peek at his drivers licence. What kind of a guy do you think I am? Yes, I gave it back! Ok. Alright, hon, tell Sharon and Cindy I said hi!" He hung up and tossed the phone back to Sam, a bored expression on his face.

"You know the operator?" 

"I know all of them. You don't get into as many stupid situations as I do without being stuck on hold for 911 at some point. Poor Pam hasn't been working lately, her husband passed away. So sad, isn't it?" His voice was laced with sarcasm, and it made the edges of Sam's mouth twitch up, "I have to warn ya, the police around here aren't worth shit."

***

"You could just check the security cameras you know." All three of the cops there looked tired and upset, and none of them had done anything of use. They'd asked the same questions fifty times, and they just kept starring between the arm, the DeSoto, Sam, and Max. 

"Where are they?"

"The cameras or the monitors?" Sam had to stifle a laugh for maybe the tenth time as Max blinked innocently up at the cops. Apparently he knew how far to push, and just how to push these guys. The cops eyes narrowed, and he had to fake cough to keep from laughing.

"Cut the crap, Maximilian, just show us the damn monitors." Max mock saluted and led two of the cops back into the store. Sam kicked his feet awkwardly against the pavement as the other cop gripped his gun tightly. He'd seemed on edge the whole time. Sam found it suspicious, but he also found it none of his business since the man was clearly restless - and clearly armed. 

"Alright officers, that's all I've got for ya, an' I'm sure my pal Sam here needs to get on home so, I'll see you next time there's a 'grease' fire. On the slushie machine. Near screaming children. Who should learn some fucking manners." Sam's eyes went wide, but the cops just rolled their eyes and climbed into their cars. Sam watched with bleary eyes as they sped off down the road, probably back to bed.

He really missed his bed.

"Well, um, it was great meeting you, Max. I, uh, I don't really know how to say goodbye to someone after finding a severed arm in a freezer with them."

"Well...you could not say goodbye..." Sam jerked around and Max just stood there grinning at him, holding something behind his back.

"Wh - what?"

"C'moon, Sam, get your mind out of the gutter! I'm just talking about this!" He pulled the arm out from behind his back. Sam was tempted to ask how he'd gotten it back, or where he'd been keeping it before this dramatic reveal, or why he thought this was a good idea, or why he thought Sam would think it was a good idea, but he shoved it all down.

"No, thank you. I'll stick to my boring life, thank you very much. Granny Ruth always said, a penny saved is a penny earned."

"That's...not relevant Sam. And I could really use a...hand with it!" Max grinned and Sam just rolled his eyes.

"It's nearly three A.M, I'm exhausted. Even if it were three P.M, I wouldn't help you with it. Take it to the police, I'm going home."

"You could just come to my place instead, it isn't that far. We could maybe play some games or something. I've got Twister!" 

"Goodbye, Max." He slammed the DeSoto door louder than necessary again, but it felt good. It felt good to tear off down the road too, leaving skid marks behind him. It even felt kind of good when he caught Max waving in his rear view mirror.

He never did get that damn Fugdy-Freeze huh?


	3. Police? I don't know her

"Geez, Sam, you look awful, what happened?" Sam sighed and brushed past Sybil, who quickly followed him, continuing, "Ok fine, I'll be professional. You're half an hour late, why's that?"

"I slept in." The fluorescent lights in the boring beige hallway weren't doing his headache any favors, and they only reminded him of waking up on the floor of a dingy gas station. 

"For the first time in almost ten years? Something happened - you wouldn't look this horrible if you got extra sleep." Sam just sighed and started walking a bit faster. 

"I only slept for about two hours." The shock had finally hit after he'd gotten home, and because of that, he had spent a long while flipping the fuck out before he finally managed to sleep. He was always a heavy sleeper, so it really wasn't surprising he slept through his alarm.

"What? Why? Is this 'cause of that overtime? You shouldn't have been that stressed. It wasn't that big of a deal." He smiled as they finally made it to his cubical. Sybil was always worried about his mental health; it was honestly kind of nice.

"I only got about an hour of sleep last night."

"What? Sam, that's really unhealthy!" He sighed and turned away from her. 

"No, we're talking about this!" 

"Sybil, you're not a therapist anymore." He could practically hear her roll her eyes; he wasn't at all surprised when she grabbed the back of his chair to turn it around. 

"No, but I'm worried about one of my friends! Is that not allowed?" 

He rolled his eyes, and hoped no one else could hear this conversation. 

"Just tell me why you couldn't get any sleep. Did something happen with your grandmother?"

"No, she's fine, so are my moms. Just a bit stressed is all."

"So it was the overtime! Listen, Sam, if something stresses you that much then you can tell me no. I won't get offended!" People could definitely hear them both, but Sybil didn't seem to notice, or care.

"It has nothing to do with the overtime. I don't know if I can tell you for legal reasons." Her eyes widened and Sam just smiled and turned back around. He wasn't lying either - the police officers really hadn't been any help at all, aside from taking some probably grainy camera footage with them.

"What the hell happened last night?" He wanted to laugh, but there was too many people looking, and it was probably high time to get professional.

"I'll tell you at lunch." 

She just sighed in defeat, and Sam could hear her footsteps heading back to her office. Luckily they both seemed to agree that he should be working, and she should be acting more professional. 

Being friends with your boss could kinda suck sometimes. 

***

Coding, coding, and more goddamn coding. He hadn't had a break since he got here, and on days when the visuals weren't a concern, his job could be really, really boring. Sure, game design was great and all, but not moving for hours certainly didn't do much for his figure or health. Stupid cubical job, stupid guidance counselor for telling him to give up on law, stupid doctorate degree he worked his ass off for that means jack shit, stupid lack of sleep, stupid-

"Death from above!" He barely had time to look up before a small furry mass hit him square in the chest. His chair toppled over, his head hitting the ground with a hard smack. He groaned and attempted to reach up to rub at it, but for some odd reason he couldn't move his arms. Something seemed to be gripping him around the chest, and it didn't feel like it would let go anytime soon.

"Max?" The little rabbity thing grinned up a storm, and Sam felt his stomach churn like he was going to throw up, "What the hell are you doing here? And why did you attack me?" Max just cackled louder and rolled off Sam, letting him sit up. 

"Seriously Max, what the hell?"

"You weren't responding! And your boss lady was glaring at me, I had to get you to notice me somehow?" Speaking of, Sybil stepped over to the cubical, laughing, rather than trying to see if Sam was alright from his heinous attack and resulting fall.

"Oh, my god, that was amazing! I didn't even know it was possible to climb cubical walls!" 

The nausea only got worse, and he couldn't tell if it was from getting so little sleep, or the way Max was still laughing at him. 

"Sam, seriously, who is this guy?" 

"This is Max. I met him last night during the whole 'I dunno if this is legal to talk about' incident." 

Sybil's laughter ceased pretty quickly, and she spared a glance at a clock on the opposite wall. 

"Wanna take your lunch break early?" 

He just sighed reluctantly and stood up. Not much else he could do - there was no way he'd be able to focus with Max around, and a gut feeling told him Max wasn't leaving for quite a while. 

"Sure, why not?"

***

"How did you find where I work?" 

Max just looked at him pointedly, and pulled Sam's wallet out of some unknown place. Again. 

"When did you-" 

"Pay more attention when someone is tackling you, big guy." 

Sybil laughed, and it was honestly the first sound she made since they told her about what happened the night before. She seemed to understand exactly what it meant, while Max still didn't seem to get that someone was walking around without an arm, or more likely wasn't alive anymore. Sam snatched his wallet back and tried in a futile attempt to ignore Max's shit eating grin.

"You still have the arm somewhere?" Sybil inquired with intrigue; Max shook his head with a dejected sigh.

"I took Sam's advice and brought it back to the police. Luckily they bought my story about it falling out of their car. Idiots."

Sybil and Sam exchanged a glance as Max started grumbling to himself. 

"So why did you track Sam down?" The first response Sybil got was a shrug from Max. 

"Wanted to see if he was okay, I guess. He passed out, then raced off before I could even really say hi! Probably went through some shock too." 

Sam would've laughed, if what Max had guessed so well were actually funny. He'd thrown up once on the way home and almost had a panic attack when he finally got back to NYC.

"And you didn't?" Sybil blurted out. Apparently, Sam was the only one that knew how to hold back in conversations. 

"Nah, I work at a 7-Eleven, I've seen way worse shit." 

Sybil let another fit of laughter bubble up; she had started standing up and didn't seem to want either of them to do the same. 

"I've got some stuff to finish up, why don't you two figure out whatever it is Max really came here for? And you can take the rest of the day off, Sam, I owe you for this whole incident." She winked at Sam before walking off, and Sam's nausea was almost unbearable.

"For real? We met last night! What, is she some sort of matchmaker?" 

Max turned to flash a grin to Sam when he tittered, "Probably. Sybil's tried just about every job there is once."

"She wasn't wrong though! I did come to do more than check up on you." He started rustling threw something. It sounded like paper, but he hadn't had a bag, or anything really, on him at all this whole time.

"How did you....oh god Max really?" It was the arm, again, of course. Can't trust anyone these days. "Why do you still have that?"

"I told you! The police in Mystic are jack shit at their jobs, and I wanna figure this out! Can't do that without a cool sidekick though, and you've got the rest of the day off." Max wiggled his eyebrows, and it somehow managed to be suggestive and disgusting at the same time. "What do ya say, ol' pal?"

"First of all, where were you keeping that? Second of all, I'm not your pal. Third of all, you'd totally be the sidekick." Sam crossed his arms, and Max placed the arm on the table in front of them.

"I'm not hearing a no!" Max crooned out, again suggestive and still somehow disgusting.

Maybe Sam was curious. Maybe he was delirious from the lack of sleep. Maybe he was making up for his missed middle or high school rebellion, maybe he was worried about the guy without an arm, or maybe he just found that he didn't mind Max nearly as much as he should. Maybe they weren't pals, but maybe he didn't actually care. He had always wanted to go into law, right? What better way to do that then solving a mystery involving a decapitated arm?

Probably going back to law school, or anything else legal.

"Fine, lets do this." 

Max practically cheered, hopping to his feet as soon as the words left Sam's mouth. He grabbed Sam's hand. trying to drag him towards the exit, mouth running a mile a minute. 

"Uh, Max? Forgetting something?" 

The arm was still limply lying on the table, and if they left it, they would have no clues, and they would most likely give some poor person a heart attack.

"Oh yeah! By the way, I hope you drove 'cause I don't have enough money for bus fair again." Max called over his shoulder as he raced back to the table, snatching the arm back up. 

"Where do you even live?" 

"That's none of your damn business!" 

"You've said that twice now."

"Yeah, I know. Just follow my instructions."

Sam groaned, "Why do I feel like that's a bad idea?"


	4. Drive Sam, Drive!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to come out! My betas going through some stuff rn and we're communicating less. This one is selfbetaed, so there might be a few more mistakes then usual. And,,,they usually come up with the titles, so I'm sorry this one sucks. I tried for a pun. It didn't really work but I tried. Sorry about that! Hope you enjoy!

"Take a right." Sam glanced around the intersection before smiling widely. He turned the steering wheel hard and fast. Max went flying from the backseat into the dashboard and the bag with the arm hit the opposite window. "Sam!"

"Whoops. Sorry, should've asked." Several cars behind them honked loudly, but they both ignored them. "I won't do it again."

"No! Please do! I love wreakless driving. Makes you feel alive, right?" Max was grinning again and Sam couldn't help returning it.

"Yeah! My sister hates it, but my moms love it too! Make's ya feel good." He hadn't meant to say all that but he didn't feel guilty or upset like he usually did. He felt ever so slightly good. Max was still grinning regardless. 

"Try and drift on the next turn! It's coming up on your left." Sam nodded and turned hard when Max pointed. Max leaned out the window and yelled something rude at the other cars. Sam had barely begun to laugh when the bag in the back slide into view through the rear view mirror. He closed his mouth as the queasy feeling hit him again.

He had wanted to become a cop, and here he was breaking the law in more than one way.

"Y'know, I always wanted to become a criminal." Sam blinked and glanced at Max, completely taking his eyes off the road. "Keep going straight for a bit."

"What kind of criminal?" Max starred at him for a while before smiling again.

"I dunno, I was pretty young when I started that idea. Stealing stuff for sure though." Sam held back a laugh and turned back to the road.

"I guess you could say you were really.....little?" He burst out laughing as Max glared at him.

"Say something like that again and I'll stab you fatty." There was a long awkward silence where Max starred angrily out the window. Sam felt like he might have a panic attack, before he realized something. He started chuckling before letting out a panicky belly laugh. "You still think this is funny?" A couple tears escaped and Max stopped looking so vicious. "Are you okay?"

"Its just.....its just that...." Sam was gasping for air and more tears welled in his eyes. "Its just that no one's ever called me that without me loosing my shit on them before." Max smiled and glanced out the window again.

"Left! Make a left!" Sam couldn't have taken the turn slow even if he had wanted to. They were too distracted before and had almost missed the turn. Max didn't seem to mind though, and Sam almost let out a howl. "Oh, this is great! Reminds me of my childhood." Sam laughed until he realized Max was being completely serious. 

"Please explain." Max laughed and pointed to the left.

"I used to play cops and robbers with some of the kids in my neighborhood. I was always a robber!" Sam smiled and took another turn to the left when prompted.

"I used to play that game too. I was always a cop. I wanted to be one for real, but only for the car chases. At least, at that age." Max nodded thoughtfully and glanced out the window. 

"My building is up here on the right." Sam nodded and pulled into a parking garage. 

They found their way out of the cement box with little talking. Whenever Sam began to feel awkward, Max would point out an elevator of staircase. Most of the time though, he felt fine. Eventually they made it out, and Max pointed out his building.

"That's where you live?" The building was an ugly brown color, made from bricks that looked more like cylinders than rectangles. The glass front door was cracked and it looked like one simple punch would have the glass completely shattered. Several of the windows were also cracked or missing. One had a plant growing up the wall, and it almost looked like it was taking over the window above it. The worst thing though, was that someone's window air conditioner had fallen or been pushed out. It was completely ruined and no one seemed to have claimed it. It almost looked like an experiment on gravity, if it weren't for the fact that it was still there.

"I work at 7 Eleven, what did you expect?" Sam shrugged as Max adjusted the bag on his shoulder. "You ready to meet Cali?" Sam's stomach dropped to make room for his new anxiety.

"Cali? Who's Cali?" Max just smiled and held the door for him. 

"You'll see." Sam gulped and stepped inside.


End file.
